


I Could Blow Through the Ceiling if I Just Turn and Run

by ken_ichijouji (dommific)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Empire Records AU, Homophobia, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, Music, Record store au, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2015-08-15
Packaged: 2018-04-14 20:47:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4579494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dommific/pseuds/ken_ichijouji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>April 8, 1995 aka John Harrison Day for the crew at Enterprise Records.</p>
<p>A lot more than that happens though, especially for Jim Kirk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Could Blow Through the Ceiling if I Just Turn and Run

**Author's Note:**

> This was actually really hard to write because like...it involved a lot of me going wow I want to use this song and then being like oh shit that came out in 1998. April 8, 1995 means no 1998. Alas.
> 
> All of the music in this is circa 1992-1995 or thereabouts. The main song you need to be familiar with is Mazzy Star's "Fade Into You," but L7s "Shitlist" may also be a good choice. The PJ Harvey song is "Down by the Water," the referenced Radiohead album is "The Bends" with the title taken from "Fake Plastic Trees" off that album, the referenced STP album is "Purple," the referenced Soundgarden album is "Superunknown," the referenced Rolling Stones song is "You Can't Always Get What You Want." I kept "Say No More (Mon Amour)" because there is no way I will ever write anything funnier than that garbage.
> 
> This is more like I took AJ and Corrie's plot and then everything else kind of ended up with some other things. Regardless, I didn't include everything from the movie because I couldn't since I only used Jim's POV.
> 
> Also I just realized I didn't use Scotty. Just pretend he's Coyote Shivers. It's magical.

_11:51 PM_

The building was a bit of an oddity in SF, but no less a landmark or rite of passage for its denizens. It was a converted old rambling Victorian house that once housed salons for bored citizens looking to create art.

Now, it was the home of the city’s most beloved record store.

_Enterprise Records, established 1959,_ the huge neon letters proclaimed on the roof. The hours were ten to midnight every day of the week except Sunday. Racks of CDs filled the middle of the store, with listening booths covered in red velvet at the back, circular stairs leading up to the offices and more listening booths and cassette tapes and albums with merch of the most cutting edge bands. 

It had been a quiet evening, and two young men sat on the roof. One of them had a beer in his hand, and they stared out over the city together. The lights glittered before them with the TransAmerica looming higher than everything else. The younger of the two stole the beer and took a sip. He made a face, trying not to show it to his companion. “Why don’t you apply for medical school again?” he asked as he replaced the beer.

“Don’t backwash, kid,” Bones admonished without even seeing him do it. “It’s gross.”

As always, Jim Kirk frowned when Bones called him a kid. “I’m eighteen, you know. And you’re 23. Not much of an age difference.”

Bones shrugged as he took a sip of the beer. His shaggy hair was brushed back off his face for once instead of hanging in his eyes. Jim preferred it the other way, but he didn’t say anything about it. 

Though it was nice to see his eyes unobscured for once. And they were something special, like gold-flamed emeralds. 

Jim watched Bones drink again, his palms itching against his jeans. They were ratty, but that was by design. Jim was really into the music coming out of the Pac Northwest still, even though it’d become as ubiquitous as regular boring pop. Nirvana of course, even though they were gone, but Pearl Jam and Soundgarden, Soundgarden especially. 

“Chris Cornell can really sing,” Jim said out loud.

“Not as good as Scott Weiland,” Bones said. The argument was familiar and happened once a shift when they worked together. They got to pick the music they played thanks to a pretty liberal management policy. 

Bones wore a pair of loose jeans too and some suede Vans. His shirt was one of those of John Lennon wearing the New York City t-shirt that were rapidly gaining popularity. 

“That Radiohead group though,” Jim said. “They have a new album coming out.”

“Yeah, I think Pavel put it on the other day, like a demo he somehow got,” Bones said. “That ‘Fake Plastic Trees’ song gave me chills.”

“Is their ‘Creep’ better or worse than STP’s?”

Bones thought for a minute. “Different and just as good.”

“Nice,” Jim said as he stole the beer again. Bones rolled his eyes. Jim rolled his back.

“I’m not getting fined for letting you drink, you know,” Bones said with a sigh.

“Then don’t tell, and you won’t,” Jim said.

Bones turned to him, the light of the neon illuminating his face. He shook his head with half a smile, and Jim’s heart went a bit pitter-patter. “You know what tomorrow is, right?” Bones asked.

“Saturday, April 8th, 1995,” Jim said with a shrug.

“It’s John Harrison Day,” Bones said.

Oh right.

“That’s right, the full staff has to be here,” Jim said. “I’m on register.”

Bones smiled. “You’re probably too young to remember when he starred on General Hospital. Mom was into it, and I would get home from school early enough to catch the last half hour. They had him sing at the Nurses’ Ball a few times.”

Jim raised an eyebrow, wondering where Bones was going with this. There was something about the way his eyes had lit up when he talked about him, though...Jim hadn’t ever seen that before. Bones opened his mouth to continue when the roof door swung loudly open behind them. 

Startled, Jim almost dropped the beer. His glasses went a bit crooked, and he looked toward the door. Somehow even in darkness, Gaila’s red curls always shone like a light. “Hello, boys,” she cooed.

“Hey Gaila,” Bones said.

“Hi,” Jim said with a smile.

Gaila walked over, picking up another lawn chair and opening it. Jim sighed at her inviting herself to his private time with Bones, but he couldn’t really get mad he figured. Propping up her feet on the roof ledge, she sat right in between them. Gaila glanced at him for a second, her matte brick red lipstick making her mouth look a bit pouty.

Jim looked at how short her skirt was. “You’re pushing the dress code more than usual,” he said. 

“What dress code?” Gaila and Bones asked in unison. Gaila poked her finger through the hole on Jim’s left knee. He slapped her hand away. 

“Never mind,” Jim grumbled. Bones opened another beer, passing it over Gaila to him. She grabbed it before Jim could and took a long sip. Unlike Jim’s initial reaction, she seemed to like it. Jim yanked it out of her hand before she could take another drink, taking a long one himself as if out of spite.

Bones pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re both minors.”

“Who’s gonna tell?” Gaila said with a grin. She angled her chair towards Bones, and Jim’s heart dropped a bit into his knees. 

The door opened again, and they all turned to it. Out came the newly minted assistant manager Spock. Oddly straight laced but nonetheless opinionated about all things involving music, Spock was the most severe and professional looking of their entire crew.

Though that honestly meant a turtleneck sweater and dark jeans.

“The store has been closed for the night,” Spock stated. “Count down your drawers and you are free to leave.”

Gaila jumped up, her chunky platform shoes making noise against the roof. “The night is still young,” she said. She turned to Bones. “Want some company tonight, Len?”

Jim stood too, and his heart froze.

Bones shrugged. “If you want. I’m just gonna get tacos.”

“Yum,” Gaila said with a winning smile.

Jim looked down at the roof.

“Wanna join, Jim? Spock?” Bones said.

Jim brightened, though part of him was disappointed Bones invited them all. He also realized that was stupid, so he didn’t complain. “Yeah.”

“I cannot,” Spock said. “I must count the money twice then give the bank the deposit.”

“However will you handle it?” Bones said with a smirk.

“I am also to avoid Chris’ cigars, whiskey, and drum set,” Spock continued.

Jim raised an eyebrow. The whiskey made sense because they all heard the story of how that one clerk drank it and vomited all over Chris’ office. The cigars were “acquired” from a contact who could get him Cubanos and were expensive. The drum set was a bit much, but Chris had some idiosyncrasies they all realized and, to varying degrees, ignored. 

“We can wait,” Bones said.

“No, it is fine,” Spock said. “Perhaps tomorrow we can all get dinner to celebrate the end of John Harrison Day.”

Once more Bones brightened at the mention of the singer, and Jim realized what it meant. He picked up his sketch pad and turned his back on them.

“Hey wait, Jim!” Bones called. “Aren’t you coming with us for tacos?”

The last thing Jim was in the mood for was Gaila making Bones another notch in her bedpost. “I’m pretty beat, honestly. I’m just gonna bike home.”

He probably imagined Bones looking disappointed, but he didn’t care. He  
walked through the roof door, slamming it closed behind him.

 

_9:28 AM_

The next morning came too soon, and Jim locked his bike by the front of the store. Pavel rode up on his skateboard a second after, and Jim grabbed his bag full of his art supplies. Pavel wore his curly hair in a makeshift Caesar cut, and he wore a red shirt with the Russian Hammer and Sickle on it.

“Communism,” Jim said with a point at his chest.

“Eh,” Pavel countered. “We left because of it so I mean…now that that Cold War brouhaha has ended, Mama and Papa are talking about us going back for a few weeks to meet the extended relatives we never got to. Cousins and shit.”

“And shit,” Jim said. He had worn his contacts that day, so instead of his thick eyeglasses, the Clark Kents Bones called them, he had a pair of John Lennon style sunglasses with blue lenses on. They made Pavel’s reddish hair look green.

Spock sat on the curb in front of the store with a blank expression. Blank even by his standards, Jim realized. “Uh...Spock?”

“Yes?”

“Did your cat die?” Pavel asked. “You look all sad-like.”

“No,” Spock said. He handed them each a dollar coin. “I flew to Las Vegas last night and caught a red eye back this morning.”

Jim lowered his sunglasses. “How’d you afford that?”

Spock shrugged one shoulder. “I do not regret the things I have done --- rather, I regret the things I did not do.”

Jim’s eyes went wide. Spock was supposed to count the money twice and deposit it at a bank. Jim was fairly bright, so he realized pretty quickly that the money never made it to the bank. “Spock. How much?”

Spock stood, placing his hands in his pockets. He put on a pair of pink Wayfarers and strolled away. 

“Spock!” Jim shouted. “How much did you lose? How much?”

Pavel tugged on his arm, longboard tucked in his armpit. “How much of what?”

Jim went to open his mouth when Chris rode up on his Harley. Which was good, because the store was due to be opened, and only he and Spock had the keys. Chris slammed his helmet down on his bike, storming his way up to the front of the store. “Hold that thought,” Jim whispered. “Morning, Chris.”

“Hi Chris!” Pavel shouted.

“Fucking John Harrison Day,” Chris muttered as he unlocked the store to let them in.

“Aw but,” Pavel said. “‘Say No More _Mon Amour_ ’ is a good…” He started laughing, so hard the board fell out from his grip, and he had to bend over. “Sorry. I can’t get through that with a straight face.”

“Probably shouldn’t let Bones hear you say that,” Jim said.

Chris immediately went up to his office, and Pavel and Jim put their belongings in their lockers, though Jim dumped his pads and pastels on a big table in the corner that had a sign on it reading _Jim’s Arts and Crafts Corner_.

The sign had been made with glitter, and it was Nyota’s handwriting.

Chris rummaged around in his desk for something, then started slamming things around. Jim pulled Pavel to the corner farthest away from his open door. “So Spock went to Vegas and now has disappeared, and Pike is angry about something. Get it?”

Pavel looked confused for a second before the proverbial light bulb went off. “Oh shit!”

“Don’t tell Chris,” Jim said. “I’ll intercept the girls. You just...don’t tell Chris.”

There came a sudden shout of _SPOCK_ as the safe door was slammed shut. The office phone rang, and Chris picked it up snapping a greeting at the person on the other line. Then he calmed. “Alexander,” he said. “I mean...hello.”

Pavel slunk out of the office to go get the store ready to open. Jim followed suit, walking up front just in time for Gaila and Nyota to be entering. Gaila was grumbling about something as Jim opened the door for them.

“I don’t understand,” Gaila said. “I was even wearing my lucky red bra! All we did was eat tacos, and then we went to our homes! Not even a kiss!”

“Well maybe he wasn’t interested,” Nyota said. 

“But everyone is,” Gaila said forlornly. “I’ve been trying to get him alone for weeks and nothing. It makes me wonder if it’s me.”

Jim brightened. She was talking about Bones!

“It’s him,” Nyota said as she smoothed out a wrinkle in her plaid skirt. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

Jim wasn’t above celebrating until he saw how upset Gaila was. Maybe she really liked Bones? Gaila shrugged, leading the way to the back office. Jim ran ahead of her. “Hey wait. There’s something I need to tell you both before you see Chris.”

Gaila raised an eyebrow and Nyota looked curious. Jim quickly relayed the story, and both of the girls stared wide-eyed in shock. “Whoa,” Nyota said. “That doesn’t sound like Spock.”

“It doesn’t, but he’s not here to ask further,” Jim agreed.

Gaila cleared her throat. “So we just pretend like we don’t know. Got it.”

 

“That’s the plan, Stan,” Jim said as he let them into the office. 

“Hiiiiiiii Chris,” Gaila called with a bright and fake grin.

“Hey Chris! What’s new?” Nyota added as they put their purses in their lockers and got their register drawers. Bones walked in a few seconds later, Jim noticing his gold cardigan highlighting his hair and eyes. Jim had more important things to worry about, so he grabbed Bones by the wrist and pulled him into the copy room. Sparks hit his skin where it touched Bones’, and Jim fought the urge to blush.

Jim shut the door behind them, and Bones gave him a curious look. Jim opened his mouth to explain about Spock when something else caught his attention. “Wait aren’t you on at 1:00? Why are you here?”

Bones’ cheeks went pink. “It’s John Harrison Day.”

The momentary good feeling Jim had about Gaila not getting anywhere with Bones was torn away by the realization that Bones had his eyes on someone with whom Jim absolutely could not compete. “Oh. You...him…”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Bones said with some pleading in his eyes. “It’s a childhood crush thing. I brought my vinyl of his first solo record to have him sign. And...I might...see if he wants to get dinner. Or...something.”

Jim swallowed. “Oh. Well. Um. He’ll...say yes.”

Bones gave him a hopeful but confused look.

“He’ll say yes,” Jim continued. “How could he not? You’re…” He struggled for a while. “You’re _you_ , Bones.”

Bones looked touched, the worry fading off his face into relief and happiness. He smiled, a bright shining thing that made Jim’s heart dance in response. “Thanks, kid.” He pulled Jim into a tight hug, and Jim took a second but returned it. They held each other for a bit longer than they should have, or so Jim thought, but it ended. Jim took a step back and forced himself to smile. 

Then he remembered the situation with Spock, but before he could Bones said in a low voice, “Hey, is it true about Spock?”

Jim blinked. “What have you heard?”

“Something about him taking all the money and gambling it away in Vegas,” Bones said. “And now the mob has a hit on him.”

“That’s...not entirely true,” Jim said.

“Ah okay,” Bones answered with a shrug. “Regardless, he’s getting made fun of.”

“We’d all expect nothing less,” Jim said with a shrug.

Bones opened the door, leading them out. Jim watched him go, Bones putting his Vespa helmet on top of the lockers. “Hey ladies,” he said to the girls.

“Hi Leonard,” Nyota said. 

“Yeah, hi,” Gaila said while not looking at him.

If he noticed the chilly reception from Gaila, Bones didn’t let on. He put his stuff in his locker and went back about his business. Jim shook his head, watching him go. Nyota cleared her throat, pulling him aside. 

“I didn’t want to say anything to Gaila,” Nyota said. “But you should tell him.”

Jim stared at her, pulling his sunglasses off to pretend to clean them. “No, I shouldn’t. He’s pretty obviously not interested. If he wasn’t into Gaila, I don’t stand a chance.”

“You never know unless you go for it,” Nyota said with a shrug. “Besides, you normally take the bull by the horns pretty quickly. What’s different?”

“I just --- he --- “ Jim tried again, unaccustomed to not being able to readily voice his thoughts. “Do you know that shirt he has? The brown one? The one that looks like something a cowboy would wear?”

“That shirt is awful,” Nyota said. “I don’t understand why no one told him this when he tried it on.”

“Well last time I saw him wear it, I thought, ‘I still love him even in this shirt’.” Jim sighed. “So it’s not just a little thing; it’s actually really huge and scary. I’ve never felt like this before or since, and I just...he keeps calling me kid.”

Nyota’s eyes were sympathetic, her long hair held off her face with a headband. “You should tell him. You should tell him everything, Jim. Let him decide how he feels.”

Jim frowned, though he realized she had a point. He should be brave instead of just pining. “You’re right. I’ll tell him this morning...by noon. I’ll tell him after lunch. I’ll tell him at...at 1:37 PM.”

Blinking, Nyota looked a bit perplexed. “As you wish,” was her response as she took the cash drawer and went onto the floor to count it out. They kept $200 in cash in them at all times, dumping the money at regular intervals when it got to be too much. Jim left the office too, coming down onto the main floor. Gaila held out a handful of M&Ms and they each took one. Jim had a green one. Nyota held hers behind her back. Pavel closed his in a fist.

Gaila stood before them. She held up a dark brown candy. “Brown?”

All of them shook their heads no.

Gaila shrugged. “Orange!” She said with an orange M&M.

Pavel whooped, showing off his candy. Jim sighed and rubbed his temples as Nyota made a sour expression.

“Fair is fair,” Gaila said. “Go put on some music, Pavel. You get to pick first.”

Pavel whooped a second time, grabbing a disc kept near their soundsystem. He pushed play, and loud angry music filled the store. Nyota’s expression soured further, and Jim shook his head a few times before pushing stop because he couldn’t even hear himself think. “Veto.”

Pavel stared at him. “But...we’re not even technically open. You sure you want to use today’s veto right now?”

“Yes,” Jim said. “Hell yes. Listening to this shit will make you sterile, Pavel.”

Jim took the CD out and picked up a purple Bic lighter. He flicked it on, burning the back of the CD so it couldn’t be played again.

“Maybe I want to be sterile,” Pavel said with a derisive snort. Jim shot him a look, and he piped down. 

“GWAR is just...not okay at this hour,” Jim continued, having finished destroying the CD. He set it to the side. “Not many hours where GWAR _is_ okay, but first thing in the AM is definitely not that time.”

Pavel glared at him, which might have been threatening if he wasn’t the youngest person on their staff. He was barely old enough to legally work. It was cute that he thought he was scary.

Nyota had finished counting the money, Gaila right behind her. Jim checked the time: 9:59. He wandered up to the front door and switched the sign from _closed_ to _open_.

Pavel grumbled as he put in a different CD. Dropkick Murphys filled the store, and Jim sighed. Gaila leaned on the counter, her cleavage showing more than it should have because of her body position and lamented about Bones not wanting her. Nyota caught Jim’s eye and jerked her head toward the office. Jim got her hint and wandered away. The store didn’t typically have customers until eleven or twelve most of the time. 

Though, it was John Harrison Day.

Jim’s job, which was why he had to be there so early, was to set up for Harrison. Jim brought out a large folding table and covered it with a fancy purple cloth. He set up large vinyl signs behind it. TVs playing the music video for ‘Say No More _Mon Amour_ ’ played on repeat as that was Harrison’s current single getting airplay. Flowers in a vase sat on one end of the table, with many Sharpies and pens sitting in the middle. 

Jim stood back and admired his handiwork. 

A hand clapped him on the shoulder, and Jim looked at Bones. “It looks great,” Bones said. “I think he’ll be pleased.”

Jim didn’t really care, but whatever. Bones was happy. He checked his watch --- 10:35. It wasn’t time yet.

Spock strode through the front door, and Jim and Bones looked at him. “Spock,” Bones said. “Is it true you lost a bunch of cash in Vegas last night, and there’s a hit out on you?”

“That is not entirely true,” Spock said as he walked up the stairs. Jim and Bones followed, the girls looking annoyed they couldn’t. Spock opened the door to the office and walked inside, and that was when Jim realized he was carrying a plastic bucket.

“Spock!” Chris shouted.

“Yes?” Spock answered.

Chris stormed over to him. “I got a call from the bank. You never deposited the money. Where is it?” The tone of Chris’ voice was deceptively sweet, like it always was when one of them royally screwed up.

“Chris. The money is gone. It is in Vegas.” Spock had the sense to take three steps back.

Too bad Chris surged forward.

“What is it doing in Vegas?” Chris said.

“Recirculating, I presume,” Spock answered. Bones slapped his hand against his forehead in response.

Chris slapped the bucket out of Spock’s hands. “Recirculating. _Recirculating?_ ”

“Ah, yes,” Spock said. “I lost it at a craps table. I do apologize because initially I doubled it, but I let it ride the second time and got what they refer to as snake eyes.” Spock looked genuinely sad. “I lost everything.”

Chris stared at him so hard Jim thought Superman’s heat vision would come out of his eyes. Bones did too judging from how he backed away. Then suddenly the rage lifted. Chris wore concern on his features, the fatherly kind he bestowed upon them all. “Spock. Are you in trouble? Because if you are, I can help.”

Spock considered his words. “We are all in trouble, Chris. I am likely the only one who sees it.”

“I’m not in trouble,” Bones said. “I’m fine.”

Spock glanced him with a look that said he wasn’t buying what Bones had tried to sell him. “Leonard, you are very much in trouble. As is Jim. As is Gaila.” Jim opened his mouth to argue, then remembered his feelings for Bones. He closed it without delay. “Every single one of us is in trouble in some capacity. I simply made a choice to mitigate the store’s impending doom.”

Chris went a bit pale. “You found it.”

“Music Town rules and user agreement,” Spock said. “We are becoming one of those. I simply took the money to Vegas to acquire enough to prevent this occurrence. It seemed to be the most logical course.”

“Music Town,” Jim said. He’d not been in them much since he started working at Enterprise two years ago. But he remembered what they were like: corporate. Uniforms, aprons, pre-selected listening discs. 

The soul would be ripped right out of Enterprise. 

No wonder Spock said they were all in trouble. 

“Is that true?” Bones asked.

Chris sighed, and Jim realized the girls had come in. “Yes. Alexander wants to sell to Music Town. But I had finally acquired enough capital to buy in as a partner. Then I could have vetoed it, kept us the way we are, and eventually bought him out.” He glared at Spock. “Except salad bowl head here gambled away the money, wrecking it.”

“If it wasn’t for those meddling kids,” Pavel said with a snort. Jim gave him a death glare. “Inappropriate,” Pavel said, shrinking from his gaze.

Everyone rolled their eyes at him.

“Well, there has to be some way we can get it back,” Nyota said. “We can’t let this happen.”

“And how do you propose we fix this?” Chris said borderline bellowing, though halfway into his question he realized with whom he was shouting. Nyota turned stony; in a lot of ways, she was the only one of them not at all intimidated by Chris. 

“Well, can’t we charge admission for John Harrison?” Nyota said with a deep glare, letting him know just how unappreciated his shouting was.

“No, his contract is clear about that,” Spock answered. Chris turned to him. “I had a lot of time last evening to read things in your office, Chris. Harrison’s contract is one.”

“So he charges for autographs but not admission?” Jim asked. That sort of but mostly didn’t make sense.

“He keeps most of the autograph money with only a pittance going to his manager,” Spock clarified.

“Sounds like a swell guy,” Jim mumbled, ignoring the dirty look Bones gave him. Which Jim honestly didn’t care about because lifelong crush or not, that was a dick move. 

Like a huge dick move.

The phone rang. Everyone stared at Pavel. “Oh right,” he said. He picked up the nearest receiver. “Enterprise Records, open ‘til midnight… _midnight_.” He hung up the phone.

Chris rubbed his temples with a sigh. “Out.”

 

Everyone looked at each other, not sure who he meant.

Chris turned and strode into his office. “Out. All of you. Now.”

They scurried like roaches, fleeing the scene.

 

_11:45_

A handsome man with black hair wearing sunglasses indoors and a velvet suit followed by a harried looking woman with a puffy brown ponytail walked into the backdoor.

Jim sighed.

“Hello!” Jim said instead of swearing profusely. “You must be John Harrison.”

The man stared at him, smiling kind of like a shark. “Hello, are you a fan?”

Not even the slightest bit. “I work here,” Jim pointed to his name badge. His name swirled in neon water colors.

“Ah yes,” Harrison said, removing his sunglasses finally. His eyes glinted in the light, and again Jim was reminded of some kind of apex predator. Nothing about him said friendly.

The woman smiled, genuine and kind. “Hello, Jim. Nice to meet you. My name is---”

“She’s my Number One,” Harrison interrupted.

Number One’s smile dimmed, but she didn’t argue.

“Nice to meet you uh, Number One,” Jim said with a sympathetic look. His smile for Harrison was decidedly more fake. “Mr. Harrison.”

Harrison nodded at him, and Jim led them up to the office the back way. Chris sat at his desk, not paying attention to what was happening. At the same time they entered the office, Gaila came out in just an apron, her underwear, and her heels. Jim took a reflexive step backwards, contemplating leading them into the store towards the hoards of fans that had lined up since like Goddamn six in the fucking morning or some shit. It blew Jim’s mind that some guy who hadn’t been relevant since 1986 would inspire such loyalty. Lotta gay men, lotta middle aged women, couple teen girls younger than their staff which confused Jim.

And then Bones, who sort of fit into the first category.

Bones sat in the office reading an anatomy book, immediately straightening up when he saw who was with Jim.

Gaila was dancing now, shimmying back and forth on their sofa. “Music Town has some confusion about revealing clothing,” she said. “They claim it’s not allowed but...well. You can see for yourself.”

Bones' eyes were focused on Harrison’s face, which Gaila noticed, causing her to harden. She noticed their guests, and Gaila jumped off the couch. Brushing her curls back from her face, Gaila grinned. “Welcome to Music Town. May I service you?”

Number One snorted.

Harrison looked more interested than he should have given his age and hers, and Jim cringed because Bones didn’t seem to notice at all, and good lord _poor Bones_.

Chris rolled his eyes. “Gaila, get dressed. Mr. Harrison, hello.” He reached out and shook hands, though Harrison gave him a bit of a strained expression. “We all love the new album.”

Jim cleared his throat to cover his laugh.

“I...have all your albums,” Bones said with a shy smile. “And I’ve seen every episode of General Hospital when you were on. You’re _so cool_.”

Now Jim stared at Bones like he’d grown a second head. Bones never called anyone cool. It was like pulling teeth getting him to compliment a person when they’d gotten a Nobel Prize. 

This had to stop. 

Now.

Harrison gave Bones an actual genuine smile. “Thank you...I’m sorry, what was your name?”

“Leonard,” Bones said, and if his eyes turned to hearts, Jim wouldn’t have been surprised.

Jim shook his head, debating leaving the room. Gaila had turned her attention back to Harrison with a smile. Before she could, Chris barked, “Today, Gaila.”

Gaila winked at Harrison and fled to the copy and cash room, locking the door behind her. Bones remained oblivious, and Jim swallowed, hoping the day went as well as it possibly could.

Chris escorted Harrison out to Jim’s table, where the hoards of ladies and men started screaming. One person even fell over with the vapors or whatever the shit, and Jim rolled his eyes and went back to work.

It was Gaila’s turn to pick the album, and she put on a certain Ms. Polly Jean Harvey. The opening bass line of “Down by the Water” filled the store, and Jim found his head moved along to the beat. She was more his speed than Tori Amos, though lyrically sometimes he preferred Tori. She got pretty dark in places, which was counter to her whole fairy image thing.

Gaila had somehow decided to become Harrison’s handler, which Jim frowned at. Bones was at the register, half paying attention to his work as his eyes kept straying to his favorite idol.

Christ.

Nyota was giving Gaila an odd look herself, and she started to call out to Jim when she froze.

A girl in a Vespa helmet stormed into the store through the front door in a cropped black Machines of Loving Grace tank under a cardigan and army surplus pants. She kept moving without giving anyone the remotest of looks, and without a word, Jim and Nyota followed her. She stormed into the staff bathroom, almost but not quite slamming it closed behind her.

The almost was because Nyota wedged one Doc Marten covered foot in the way. The shoes were important because had she not been wearing them, there likely would have been a fairly serious injury.

Janice didn’t look at them. “I need to take a shit,” she said.

“Why are you so mad?” was Nyota’s retort.

“What’s that thing on your wrist?” Jim asked, noticing something white hanging below her sleeve.

Sighing, Janice took off the helmet, and Jim and Nyota both went wide-eyed.

Typically, Jan had long blonde hair she pulled up in deceptively simple looking hairstyles that shouldn’t have but did go with her whole Riot Grrl schtick. 

On that afternoon, there was only blonde stubble.

She’d shaved her head.

“Jesus H,” Jim said. 

Jan didn’t turn to face them, she just looked at them through the mirror. “Not a big deal. Got bored.”

Jim looked at her wrist again --- it was a bandage. There was a giant white bandage taped around her wrist. “What the hell?” He walked over, pulled her sleeve up, and examined it. A few little spots of blood had seeped through, but it was pretty obvious what had happened.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Nyota asked.

Jan yanked her wrist out of Jim’s grip. She turned to them with a bitter smile. “I tried to go to Rock and Roll Heaven, but I wasn’t on the guest list.”

“That’s not funny,” Jim said.

Shrugging, Jan left the bathroom. She punched her time card and pulled on her name badge. Her nose ring glinted in the light, and Jim blocked her from getting a cash drawer. 

“I need to go to work, please,” Jan said.

“Not until you explain what the hell happened to you last night,” Jim replied.

Jan wouldn’t look at him---she just sighed loud again. “Let me go, Jim.”

Spock suddenly appeared, his hand touching the stubble of her head. “Janice is fine. She is better than fine---she is amazing.”

The look Jim gave Spock could only be described as betrayed. Janice seized the opportunity and took off to join Bones and Pavel at the registers. 

“Spock---” Nyota began, but the look on his face deterred her.

“She is in the store,” Spock explained. “She will be fine. She is in the store.”

Jim shook his head a few times. “You’re acting weird, Spock. Normally you’d have called 911 on her. What’s with you today?”

Spock shrugged. “What is with _today_ today?”

Both Nyota and Jim made sounds of disgust as they went back to work.

 

_1:29_

Jim was in the office drawing a picture of Bones on the Haight. He knew his face so well he could do it from memory, and in his drawing, he made Bones actually smile. He did it sometimes, and it always reminded Jim why he was in love.

Chris was stuffing shredded paper into a cloth deposit sack, and Jim stopped drawing. “Hey Chris?”

“Yeah,” Chris said not paying attention.

“You’re a romantic expert…” Jim began.

Chris snorted. “My wife left me for a woman and my last girlfriend pulled a gun on me, sure, I’m a love guru.”

“I’m going to tell Bones,” Jim said. “In like...shit! Seven minutes? How do I only have seven minutes?”

Chris stopped and gave him a weird look. “For what?”

“I promised I’d tell Bones by 1:37,” Jim said.

Spock, from where he sat frozen on the couch, looked thoughtful. “That is an excellent time.”

Jim gave him a sheepish smile. Then he turned back to Chris. “What should I say?”

“I love you is a good start,” Chris said. 

A door opened, and in came Hikaru. He started changing his shirt halfway between his locker and the door. Hikaru worked at both Enterprise and the next door pizza shop, and he was carrying a large foil wrapped something with _PAVEL_ written on it in block letters. “Hey sorry I’m late, we were slammed,” he said as he put on a white silk bowling shirt that said “Paco” in script. Hikaru buttoned it all the way up and finished it off with a burgundy plaid tie. “Yo Spock is it true you almost got killed gangland execution style for stealing a million smackers from a mafia don?”

“Not _entirely_ true,” countered Spock.

“Who calls money smackers?” Jim wondered.

Hikaru shrugged. “This guy,” he said with his thumbs pointing at himself.

Jim almost replied when his watch caught his eye: 1:35.

He started to get the dry spits in his mouth, so he held a hand over it and bolted to the roof. Upon arriving he realized the sign wasn’t lit up like it should have been, and he managed to quell the urge to vomit enough that he grabbed the tool box and went to work.

His hands shook.

The roof door opened and up came Bones with the unhappiest look Jim had ever seen. Jim dropped the tools without hesitating, instinctively walking to him. “Bones?”

The light of the sun angled just so Jim couldn’t make out the look in Bones’ eyes. He stood, quiet. “I’ve never been more humiliated in my life,” came the whisper, and Jim’s heart dropped into his knees.

Bones sat on the edge of the roof not looking at Jim. Jim sat next to him, no longer caring about his mission. “Is this about Harrison?”

“I…” Bones said. “I asked him for coffee.”

“And he said no?” 

“He…” Bones said. “Apparently, all I am to him is a _fucking fairy._ ”

Jim recoiled. He would have had he not grown up in San Francisco, to be honest. Who says things like that to someone? What a piece of shit. “What a piece of shit,” Jim said out loud.

“He’s…”

“Nope!” Jim said with a glower. “You don’t get to make excuses for some asshole using a slur at you because you’re gay. Them’s the rules.”

Bones shrugged, the look in his eyes kind of inscrutable.

Jim ran a hand through his hair. “He’s a total asshole. I know what it took for you to put yourself out there with him. And he can’t even be nice about not being into you because you’re a guy? No. Fuck that. He can go fuck off. He doesn’t deserve anything from you except scorn. Period.”

Bones’ eyes became more easily read, the light making them look like stained glass.

Jim kept going. “Anyone who doesn’t want you Bones...they’re a grade A dumbass. They don’t deserve you. Granted you get frustrated too easily, your wit is like acid sometimes, and I often wonder if you’ve ever had a lick of fun in your whole life, but...you’re perfect.” The dry spits were back, but Jim pushed past it. “You’re perfect, and I----”

Bones’ lips were on his, a bit tentative but with a lot of feeling, and Jim closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around him in response. The sounds of the city surrounded them, the distant noise of a street car rang, but Jim didn’t really hear it as he opened his mouth and Bones deepened the kiss.

It wasn’t that violins started playing so much as Mazzy Star’s “Fade Into You,” which Jim and Spock had argued over the previous year when it dropped as a single. Spock called it pedestrian, Jim said if it had played at his homecoming he might have lasted longer than five minutes. The weeping guitar and ethereal longing were what said love song to Jim, and of everything he could hear at that second, it was absolutely a love song.

Breathless, Jim broke the kiss. He smiled, beaming like a sunray. “I’ve always loved you,” he said as he brushed the hair off Bones’ face.

Bones’ brows furrowed a bit, his eyes dimming with confusion. “Huh,” he said after a pregnant pause.

His left eyebrow rising, Jim gave Bones a confused look of his own. Then it hit him. “You had no idea.”

The confusion left Bones’ gaze, being replaced by something that Jim didn’t understand. Where he stood, it was pity. He was being pitied because Bones didn’t love him back.

Fuck that.

Jim scrubbed a hand down his face, stood, and turned on a dime. “Jim hey wait---” called Bones, and Jim didn’t give him an answer with anything but a middle finger and a dirty look. He stomped through the roof door and down the steps without looking back.

Love could go fuck itself.

 

_4:47_

Jim had managed to hide out back for the rest of the afternoon, avoiding everyone and everything except a painting he hadn’t been in the mood to work on for about six weeks. It was an exercise in color theory kind of like a Rothko only instead of making the viewer want to jump off the Golden Gate, he had wanted to basically incite violence.

He was now in the perfect mood for it.

A bunch of reds and blacks, subtly lighter or darker from one another, filled the canvas and he kept going until his wrist gave out. He propped it against the wall, standing back six feet from it.

Finally, it was perfect.

His hands looking battered and bloodstained, Jim folded his arms across his chest. He’d changed shirts so he didn’t have to worry about damaging better clothing as he kept a few old beat up things to work on his art during his breaks at Enterprise. 

Jim had stolen one of Bones’ beers without giving a shit if he’d notice, and he took a long pull. It was starting to edge from tolerable to pleasant, and Jim gulped down about half of it in one go. 

The back door to the shop opened, and Jim didn’t even look toward it. He just stared at his new work. He decided it would fit in Chris’ office since the man’s mood was shit too. The person stood next to him, and took in the work. After a few minutes, there came a small gasp, and the person flinched.

Jim looked out of his peripheral vision, and he saw that it was Nyota.

“That’s intense,” she said after a minute. 

“That’s the purpose,” Jim answered with a shrug.

Nyota’s expression shifted into deep worry; frown lines, sadness in her eyes, the whole nine. “What happened to make this come out of you?”

Jim’s jaw tightened. He couldn’t meet her gaze all of a sudden, choosing instead to focus on his combat boots.

A breeze stirred, blowing Nyota’s hair into her face. Her Cher Horowitz aesthetic worked in most ways, but in terms of not decimating her lip gloss the hair loose in headbands thing didn’t pan out. “You told him. And he spurned you?”

“Why are you using Shakespearian language to describe Bones’ giant pile of shittiness?” Jim asked.

Nyota shrugged. “I’ve been writing again. Don’t change the subject. And Leonard isn’t shitty.”

“Not what I need to hear right now,” Jim said as he stripped off the paint covered shirt and put back on his good one. Good being relative of course, because it was a thrift store find. Whatever, all the girls including Jan ( _Jan_ ) agreed it did good things for his eyes because of the shade of teal it was.

“He’s not shitty,” Nyota reiterated. “If he’s not interested, then I’m sorry. I really thought he was.”

“He had no idea how I felt, and he didn’t do anything at all when I said the l word,” Jim grumbled as he stalked back inside to wash up. Nyota hurried to catch up with him, and loud thrash music pulsed throughout the building. L7 fit his mood perfectly, so Jim didn’t really get annoyed like was typical when one of them put on a ragepie of a band. It was the CD, though, not the vinyl press, so it wasn’t Hikaru. 

Granted Hikaru didn’t listen to anything younger than Pavel without complaint, but still. He was their record guy.

Regardless, this kind of music made made the customers all crazy-like was Jim’s typical complaint.

Jim went into the bathroom to try to get the oils off his hands, and Nyota followed him, closing the door. He knew her, he knew her so well he knew he needed to just talk or else he’d never be left alone, and he kinda had to piss.

“He kissed me and then I said that...when I said _it_ ,” Jim explained, finally facing her head on. “He looked confused, said ‘huh’ and went back about his business like nothing changed.” 

The red started to rinse off, flowing down the drain like bloody water.

“The ‘just friends’ speech would have been vastly preferable,” Jim finished.

Nyota shook her head a few times. “Maybe you just shocked him. Maybe he just had nothing to say because he...had nothing to say.”

Jim gave her a strange look. “Bones? Have _nothing to say_?”

“I realize it’s implausible,” Nyota conceded. “But hear me out. He’s a human being like us, and things can shock him like it does us. Maybe he didn’t react because he didn’t know how to.”

“It’s still shitty,” Jim said.

“It is pretty shitty,” Nyota replied. “But...give him a bit. Let him sort stuff out.”

Jim opened the bathroom door, and Nyota stepped out of it back into the main staff room. He did honestly have to piss, so he did that as expediently as possible, not flushing because Chris forced them to let it mellow if it was yellow because he was a hippie in odd ways, and Jim stepped out among his friends.

Chris stood in front of the cash room with an odd set to his shoulders.

Spock sat on the couch with a blank expression. And blank on Spock was like some kind of flat affect shit not seen outside of creepy serial killer documentaries. Which Pavel needed to stop watching lest he get ideas.

Jan stood not far from Jim staring at the cash room door as well. Nyota was near Chris also staring.

“Uh…” Jim started to ask when he heard it. A pounding against something big and plastic like their copy machine, Gaila’s giggles, and what could only be John Harrison’s dirty talk.

Oh fuck.

Bones came into the room then with his drawer. “I feel like shit. I’m gonna call it,” he said. Chris opened his mouth, but Bones tried to open the door and failed due it being locked. “Why’s the door locked?” Bones asked.

Chris opened his mouth again, then made some kind of vague sound like a dog learning how to bark for the first time.

Nyota cleared her throat. Spock aimed his eyes away from Bones.

“Where’s Gaila?” Bones said. Then more quietly came, “Where is Harrison?”

A particularly loud thump and a prolonged sigh from Gaila answered the question, and without so much as another word, Bones threw the drawer onto the ground and fled. Hikaru had come in on the middle of the scene, parting ways to let him through. On a normal day, Jim would have gone after him. 

Actually…

Jim sighed, swore under his breath, and ran after him.

Then he froze in place.

There was a girl dressed sort of like that hot chick from the band garbage with the matching eye liner and blonde instead of red hair wearing a giant coat. 

In April. 

In California.

Jim watched her as she demagnetized a cd and put it in her pocket. Then she did it again. And another time.

He was about to do something when Spock appeared next to him. 

And Spock had changed his shoes into his Vans.

“You got this?” Jim asked.

“Yes,” Spock declared as he cracked his neck.

“Don’t hurt her, she’s a waif,” Jim said as he watched Spock approach like a jungle cat stalking prey. Spock said barely anything to her before she turned tail and ran, Spock sprinting after like it was no big deal.

Jim realized in all the commotion of the shoplifter, of which Enterprise had surprisingly few, he’d lost Bones.

And for once, he had no idea where he’d gone.

If Bones was just kind of having a bad day, he’d go dick around City Lights for a few hours. If he was pissed, he’d go to a dive bar. But this was some kind of day from Hell for Bones, so Jim had no clue where he might have vanished to.

Like the Harrison thing hadn’t already sucked, and Jim was going to rain down all kinds of shit on Gaila for deliberately hurting Bones to get him back, and then Jim’s stupid confession, which Jim bitterly realized had probably just made everything suck even harder, Bones may never come back to the store.

JIm hugged himself for a second before walking back inside.

 

_5:28_

The shoplifter sat sullenly on the sofa as she had since Spock bested her. She wouldn’t answer questions or talk. She just stared off into space.

“You realize you’re banned from here right,” Chris said, though it pointedly wasn’t phrased as a question.

The girl scoffed.

Chris squatted in front of her, and took a real look at her face. Then his jaw fell. “Carol?”

She looked up with a giant death glare and Jim wondered why the name sounded somewhat familiar.

He didn’t have long to ponder because the store’s owner, Alexander Marcus came in and for God’s sake who the fuck wore three piece suits in SF on a fucking Saturday? “Chris I’m just here for the deposit, I’ll take it and be on my way.”

Carol tried to make herself invisible, and Jim got it. Marcus had an only child he won in a nasty divorce named Carol.

Damn his daughter had tried to steal from herself?

Marcus actually didn’t notice as Chris handed him the sack he’d stuffed all that paper in earlier. Satisfied, thankfully without opening it, Marcus left without another word. Carol seemed to regain all of her coloring, and she sat up.

Spock turned to her. “Why?”

“I hate everything about him,” Carol said, and weirdly she sounded like a Brit. “I hate him. I want to go back to Brighton and be with Mom. Mon actually eats dinner with me and gets me. All he cares about is cash.”

No one argued because they couldn’t. He’d always been a poor fit for a record store owner.

“He only has this place because Granddad changed it from a bath emporium since he was a beatnik,” Carol continued. “Dad’s always whining about how if the family business was still bidets he’d be rich.”

“He’s shi...no, you know what? That’s low hanging fruit, and I’m better than that,” said Hikaru.

A police officer entered the room, and Carol winced worse than she had when her father arrived.

“Ah yes,” Spock said. “The long arm of the law has come to embrace young Carol.”

“You’re sending me to jail?” Each word got pitched higher than the last culminating in a squeak worthy of a Disney character.

“Standard policy dictates that we press charges,” Chris said. The cop’s expression said she was good either way. “This is literally your get out of jail free card, kid. Don’t abuse it. Or screw up. Next time I will tell your dad personally. Now get out before I change my mind.”

Carol didn’t have to be told twice as she bolted.

Spock held out the cds she’d taken: Seal, Celine Dion, Wilson Phillips, and the one shining beacon in the pile: Massive Attack’s Blue Lines.

“Crappy taste,” Hikaru said.

“She probably just didn’t care,” Jim countered. “The aim was the theft, not to get stuff she can’t afford and wants.”

The door to the cash room opened, and Gaila came out fixing her skirt. She stopped when she realized there was an audience, for once having the decency to blush.

Harrison was next smoking a cigarette. He’d managed to fix his hair back into its gelled helmet like state, and he had slung his jacket over his shoulder. “No applause?” he said as he left the room.

To do so he had to walk right by Jim, and Jim didn’t realize he’d spit on him until it hit the back of his head. Harrison froze, touching the saliva blob with obvious distaste. He gave Jim a cold smile. “Oh did I shag your girl? Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You’re a bigot and a piece of trash,” Jim said. “You’re also a fucking imposter has-been.”

He probably should have foreseen that Harrison would hit him with a mean right hook, but well he just flat out hadn’t.

“Okay that’s it,” Chris said. “Get out.”

Harrison shook out his hand a few times. “You can’t---”

“I said get the hell out of my store,” Chris reiterated. “Number One quit by the way. Even she hates you.”

Harrison sneered, put back on his sunglasses, and growled. “Why don’t you all just fade away?”

Jan and Nyota ran to Jim, Jan examining his face, and Nyota just lending support. 

Hikaru gave Gaila a look that was a combination of shocked and aggravated. “What the hell Gaila? With fucking John Harrison?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Gaila said.

Nyota rolled her eyes and stood up. “This is the least cool thing you’ve ever done, Gaila.”

“Why? Because his music sucks?” Gaila replied.

“Because you did it to spite Leonard for not wanting you,” Nyota clarified.

Chris sighed, covering his face in his hands. Jan glared at Gaila rather menacingly, and Hikaru was about to go full blast, when Chris held up a hand and made a fist. “Gaila. Go home.”

Gaila stared at him. “Am I being fired?”

“I didn’t fire Spock for stealing nine grand,” Chris said. “I didn’t fire Jim for spitting on a famous person. Why am I gonna start firing people with you? Just...you’ll still get paid, but it’s better you’re not here right now.”

Gaila gave a look around everyone else, and after a minute she realized no one was sympathetic. “Fine.” She grabbed her purse and her jacket, curls bouncing behind her as she flounced.

Jim held a hand over his eye, and it had already begun to swell shut. Without a word, Chris made an ice pack and handed it to him. Jim gladly accepted it.

“I really can’t believe her,” Nyota said.

“I can,” Jan said. “She thinks it’s all she’s got to offer. She thinks it’s all she’s good for. Why wouldn’t she have done this? Think about it--- none of the guys ever let her meet their friends or anything. At best she’s a three time booty call.”

Jim hated to admit it, but Jan had a very real point. She did seem to feel sex was all she was good for. That’s probably why she’d taken Bones not accepting her advances so poorly...though it didn’t excuse her by any means. 

Nyota gave Jan a look. “Do you have him? Because I should probably get her.”

“We’re good,” Jan said as she helped Jim up. The ice pack sat on his face, held pretty tightly against his eye. 

Nyota nodded, standing and adjusting the hem of her skirt. She grabbed her coat and went after Gaila to talk her down. The others all looked at Jim with concern until the feedback heralding their intercom system coming on sounded. “Help me,” cried Pavel. “Help me, help me, _help me_.”

Hikaru excused himself to go save the store from becoming a smoldering crater of doom. Which it would. Because Pavel apparently had an angry mob if the screaming was any indicator.

Jan led Jim into the bathroom, turning them sideways in front of the mirror. She pulled off the ice, inspecting him. “The swelling’s not bad,” Jan said. “But you’re definitely going to have a shiner.”

“Eh,” Jim said.

“Eh,” Jan echoed.

They looked at each other for a while, and Jim reached out to her wrist. He turned it face up, looking at the bandage. “Why?”

“Things were shitty last night,” Janice said. “And then I thought about how they were shitty the night before. And the night before that. And then the week before, then the month, the year…” She shrugged. “It seemed like a good idea.”

“It’s not,” Jim said. “Your life’s not all bad. You’ve got us. You’ve got a roof over your head. You’ve got your dad.”

She shrugged.

“We’d miss you,” Jim said. “And Jan you can’t undo it. It’s a pain that never goes away for the rest of us, and it’s something you can’t take back. I’m being selfish here, but please don’t do this again.”

Jan wiggled her fingers. “I did it with one of those Lady Bics, the pink things with the daisies. Pulled it apart, but it was pretty dull. Didn’t cut very deep. Like I said, I tried to get into rock ‘n roll heaven, but Saint Peter turned me away because he didn’t like my outfit. Worse than that Studio 54 place back in the day.”

Sighing, Jim shook his head. 

Jan undid the bandage, wadding it up and throwing it into the trash can. A nasty wound went down her arm, not very long or wide. She should probably have gotten stitches.

Jim touched it, very carefully. She didn’t even blink. He slid his hand into hers, twining their fingers together. Janice made a face like she always did when someone openly showed her affection, but also as always she allowed it. Jim waggled his eyebrows at her, making a silly grin, and Janice snorted, fighting a smile with every muscle in her face.

Too bad so sad, happiness won the day. 

Jim pulled her out the bathroom, herding her into the main office. Music blared throughout the store, and it took Jim a minute to realize what it was.

_You greet me with a smile and a glass of rose!_  
_I find myself distracted by your black neglige!_  
_You tell me everything with that look on your face._  
_Say no more baby, let’s cut to the chase._

“Oh God why?” Janice complained.

Jim laughed, twirling her out, then back in, holding her tight to his chest. The blonde fuzz of her head brushed against his cheek, and it was actually a nice feeling. She pushed against him, begging for an escape from Chris and Spock. 

Spock almost smiled, and Chris shrugged, going back to freaking out about the money.

Jim pulled her back in, nuzzling her cheek when someone cleared their throat. He glanced up, and it was Bones. He’d come back apparently, and his eyes could have bore a hole in Jim. There was a look in his eyes Jim couldn’t ever remember seeing before, and he didn’t recognize what it was. 

It was pretty angry though, Jim thought. He must have still been angry at Gaila.

Jim started taking Janice around the room in a modified Lambada, which she could surprisingly keep up with. They whirled around the room with their stomachs touching, and out of the corner of his eye, Jim kept catching Bones staring at them. 

Then he turned, made a weird sound, and strolled out the room back to work.

 

_7:39_

Chris was freaking the fuck out.

He’d called every bank in town and even some that weren’t to try and get a loan to cover the nine grand. They all laughed in his face, some literally.

He put on a thrash metal song and wailed on his drum set out of anger, and Jim couldn’t really fault him. He just quietly hung up the new painting where one of his previous works stood, and went back about his business.

Which was avoiding Bones.

Spock still sat on the couch because somehow he got this idea he couldn’t move for the rest of his existence, and Jim periodically sat with him sketching. Then Jim glued quarters to the floor.

Pavel came in unwrapping the foil thing Hikaru had given him. They looked like brownies. But if Hikaru made them, they weren’t just fudge and flour. They were probably laced with so much THC it’d be a miracle if Pavel could sit upright, let alone talk or do his job.

“Maybe don’t eat those until we’re off shift,” Jim said.

Too late, because Pavel’s curls bounced as he shoved an entire one into his mouth.

“Shit,” Jim said.

Spock sighed. “We need to do something.”

Pavel swallowed. There was chocolate all over his front teeth making them look like they were missing. 

Jim understood, sitting back. “But what? How are we going to come up with nine grand by midnight?”

Pavel tilted his head to one side. “Why not put on a show? I just formed a band...Pavelle but spelled---”

Jim felt like a lightning bolt hit him. Actually yeah...Pavel’s band could perform on the roof like that gimmicky thing the Beatles did, they could sell his art, they could sell beer...this could work.

Spock had come to a similar conclusion if the expression on his face was any indicator. “We could also charge admission,” he continued. “Ten dollars a person.”

“I’ll start pricing paintings,” Jim said as he hopped over the back of the couch.

Chris had come out during the convo. “We need permits.”

“Fuck the permits,” Jim said. “Do you want to save this place or not?”

“Alexander is---” Chris stopped. “Nah. You’re right. Damn the man. Save the Enterprise.”

Jim whooped and went back to pricing his art. Spock gathered up a large jar and put a sign on it reading Admission Ten Dollars. Chris crossed out the ten and put twenty. Pavel, who looked stoned to the couch, pulled himself together enough to skate away from the shop to buy kegs of beer.

All of them went to work, putting the call out for local bands to join Pavel’s on the roof. They got a lot of good feedback, the bands understanding how important Enterprise was to Bay area music. 

Nyota helped Jim put out his art with signs. Hikaru set up a table with the rarer vinyl prints Enterprise carried, marked up a bit for the occasion. People began to flock to the store in waves, and Spock hooked up speakers outside to funnel out the music that currently played in the store. Lauryn Hill’s vocals wafted out into the street, Jim realizing that likely they would violate some kind of noise ordinance. 

A group of men in varying states of grunge attire showed up with music equipment, and Jim did a double take when he realized who they were. Fucking _Faith No More_ had shown up to help save the store. Which what? How? What?

Chris shook their hands, having a conversation with them. Pavel and his posse had showed up with five kegs on their skateboards like some kind of gang. Hikaru returned from the pizza shop with heavily discounted for Enterprise pies that they immediately marked up to sell to make money off of. People started buying the beer and pizza, and Jim nodded with approval. 

Hopefully this would work.

 

_11:17_

The crowd surged as the music blared off the roof, drawing an even bigger crowd. The jar was full of cash, a bunch of Jim’s paintings had sold, the pizza was gone, and the beer flowed like water.

The employees of Enterprise stood in the front row cheering on the bands except Jim. He was behind the bands fixing the sign. He felt like being alone still, though setting up the benefit show had taken his mind off things. 

Things like Bones.

His heart still hurt, and Jim wasn’t sure what to do. It was frustrating. He should have hated Bones, but he didn’t. He still loved him as much as he had when he woke up that morning. But he’d have to move on with his life. 

He just wasn’t sure he knew how.

He could move to New York even though the prospect of dealing with snow bothered him. He’d have to buy an actual winter coat or snow boots. But New York was a fresh start and probably a better place for him as an artist long term.

Jim watched Pavel’s band go, and they were surprisingly good. Not his kind of music, but good. They might have been going places. It wasn’t super loud for him, he was standing behind the bands, but he listened and enjoyed the show from the lawn chairs while occasionally working on the sign.

Halfway into Faith No More’s set, Jim sat in one of the lawn chairs with another beer stolen from Bones’ stash as they closed out with “Epic.” They said goodnight, and the crowd lost it, screaming so loud Jim figured Enterprise would get fined pretty heftily.

He stayed back in the chair as the band took down their equipment and left. He was then truly alone, and Jim sort of wished for company and sort of didn’t. He sipped the beer and sat, looking up at the night sky. A fog was beginning to roll in, and Jim realized he didn’t have his jacket as he shivered.

The roof door opened, but Jim didn’t pay it any mind as he put the tools back in the box, cleaning up after himself.

“Why are you hiding up here?” came a voice he didn’t want to hear.

Jim sighed. He turned, facing Bones, and shrugged. “I just don’t feel like it.”

Bones had his own jacket on, and he held Jim’s in his arms. Jim pulled on the worn-in leather with a nod of thanks. Before he could move, Bones was on him, touching his face to examine the black eye. “Harrison is a snake,” Bones said.

“Yup,” Jim said, taking a step back to get away from him. Why wouldn’t he leave?

Bones stepped back into Jim’s personal space, and Jim realized he couldn’t get away without actually running. He sighed, lowering his gaze to the ground.

“Alexander showed up demanding the money,” Bones said. “He sold the store to Chris for the twelve grand and some change we raised. We’re saved.”

Jim nodded.

“Gaila apologized,” Bones continued. “She realized she was petty.”

“That’s great,” Jim said though he didn’t really feel it. It was honestly really good she did that. That whole thing had been beneath her.

Bones cleared his throat. “I think you misunderstood something I did or said, and it’s been killing me all day. _You’ve_ been killing me all day, so if you wouldn’t mind listening for a second I’d appreciate it.”

Jim shrugged. “Sure.”

“Thanks,” Bones said. He stopped for a second, clearing his throat a second time. “Not to excuse my actions, but you really caught me off guard earlier. I’d never...I had no idea how you feel. Or felt. Or...whatever.”

Jim still wouldn’t raise his eyes to his face.

“It’s probably felt, past tense, if that dance with Jan is any indicator,” Bones continued, sounding...he sounded sad, actually. “But regardless, when we were talking up here, you...you said these things that I’ve always wanted someone to say about me, but it was _you_ saying them, and something about that just...I…” It was Bones’ turn to look down. “I kissed you because it felt right, not because I was taking you for granted. And it did feel right---it’s the rightest thing I’ve ever done, and I just thought you should know I didn’t not speak because I _don’t_ love you, it’s because I _do_ , and I somehow am too stupid to have seen this before then, and I just…”

Jim looked up, his eyes bright and wide. Really? _Really_ really?

“I just…” Bones said, his own eyes shining against the darkness. “Can we...like...go to dinner sometime? Or a movie? A show? A gallery? Whatever you want. I just...want to… _date_ you and be with you and do all that dumb shit that people do. I mean, it’s all totally dumb shit, but it’s dumb shit with _you_ which not only makes it bearable, it makes it _good_.”

Smiling, Jim reached out. He took Bones’ hand, pressing against it so it pointed against his, like they were high-fiving. Jim shifted his fingers, sliding them in between Bones’. “Dumb shit like holding hands.”

Bones’ face was equal parts relief and joy, which was a bit odd to see. But Jim held on, his gaze not wavering as he shifted closer, pressing their chests and stomachs together. His grin almost split his face in two. “Dumb shit like kissing on a quiet roof overlooking the city.”

Bones raised an eyebrow but Jim leaned in, kissing him quietly. It barely took a second for Bones to kiss him back, and he wrapped his free hand around Jim’s waist. Jim made the kiss more insistent, grabbing Bones and tipping backwards, the two of them landing hard on the roof. 

Bones broke the kiss with a frightened expression. “Are you okay? Are you?”

“Yeah,” Jim said. “Come back.”

Rolling his eyes, Bones snorted. They went back to making out, Jim making a pleased, throaty sound into the next kiss. There was a familiar sound from a few feet away, but Jim didn’t pay it any mind until he heard Nyota go, “Oh Lord.”

Bones and Jim broke apart, Jim with a severe frown. “What?” Bones asked with a sour expression.

“Chris is taking us all out to celebrate in Chinatown,” Nyota explained with a grin. “Should I tell him we’re going without you two?”

Jim would later get her for her cheek, but at that moment he couldn’t be bothered. He looked at Bones, deferring to him.

“He can get us another time,” Bones said. “We’re gonna head back to my place _just us_.”

Nyota’s smile said she figured that was the answer. She turned, her hair flowing over her shoulder. “Good night, boys,” she said in a sing song.

“Night,” Jim replied.

The door closed behind her, and Bones stood, helping Jim up. They walked hand in hand to the door, heading down the steps to the office to grab their things. Once that was taken care of, Jim locked his bike up in the store so it wouldn’t get stolen, and Bones gave Jim his vespa helmet. Jim sat on the back of the scooter, and they drove off together to Bones’ apartment building. 

He had a studio he fondly referred to as “The Shithole,” but it was great in Jim’s eyes. Bones didn’t live like a normal bachelor with egg crates everywhere. His couch had been a thrift store find, he’d actually hung curtains, and some of Jim’s art hung on the walls. Jim had always loved Bones’ apartment, and coming here for the first time for this purpose was altogether something else.

Bones led him inside, pulling him towards his bed over by a big bay window. His apartment was in a converted Victorian, and Jim knew Bones had the best view of all the renters in the building. Jim peered out of it for a bit while Bones neatened up his bed and turned on his stereo. He’d invested in a good system, one of those twelve cd changers with the extra sweet speakers. The song Jim had thought of during their first kiss filled the apartment, and Jim wondered if it was too early to tell Bones they had a song.

Jim turned and watched him. He’d discarded the gold cardigan, wearing just his Nirvana shirt with his scapular hanging out over it, and the black denim on his lower half was relatively worn in. Bones finished his tidying up of the bed, which Jim sort of didn’t see the point in, and he walked over, reaching out and taking Jim’s hands.

“Are you…” Bones began. “I mean. Do you want a drink?”

Jim smiled, shaking his head no.

“Food then?” Bones asked. His hands were clammy, his face a bit pale.

Stepping right up into his bubble, Jim looked up the scant half inch that Bones was taller. He took his face in his hands, kissing him. It was partly to reassure him, but mostly Jim wanted him to understand he wasn’t going to change his mind. Bones kissed him back, pulling him from the window to the bed. They sat on it, undoing their shoes --- while fashionable, combat-boot style shoes were a pain to take off and put on. 

Once they were barefoot, Bones turned sideways and kissed Jim again. They fell back on the bed, Bones rolling on top of him. They kissed for a long time, Jim losing himself in it as they went on, taking turns being on top. 

It had to have been a half an hour of just kissing, when Bones broke a kiss to reach under his bed for something. He brought out a box of condoms and lube. Jim’s eyebrow rose at the condoms, which didn’t escape Bones’ notice. “There’s kind of an epidemic you know,” Bones said.

“I get tested every six months,” Jim said. “I’ve been clean every time.”

“Me too, but,” Bones said. “I mean...I…”

Jim shut up, kissing him. “It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting it. I’m not pressuring you.”

Bones smiled into the kiss. Clothing was beginning to disappear then, Jim’s shirt and undershirt vanishing followed by Bones’ t-shirt. The jeans were next, and they lay on the bed in just their boxers. Bones stopped kissing Jim to look at him for a while, Jim staring back with a confused smile. 

“I’m having trouble understanding this,” Bones said.

Jim’s smile faded. “What?”

“How I never knew,” Bones answered. “I’m kicking myself for not having seen.”

Touching his face, Jim shrugged. “You see now. That’s what matters.”

Bones’ floppy shaggy hair had fallen in his face, and Jim brushed it off so he could see him with clarity. Dimly Jim realized Scott Weiland was singing now, and while the song made him a bit sad normally, “Interstate Love Song” wasn’t a bad choice to set the mood.

Divesting themselves of their underwear, Jim got a good look at Bones naked for the first time. He stared at him, the itch to create art taking over, and he gave Bones such an intense stare it made him blush. Jim had brought a sketch pad and charcoals with him, and his fingers started to twitch at the thought of a series of drawings of Bones like this.

Bones gave him a funny look. “Stop painting me in your head,” he mumbled with a blush staining his cheeks.

Jim shook his head. “Not painting, drawing,” Jim said. “Please let me draw you.”

“Right now?” 

Jim laughed. “No. Later. I want something else right now. But you are kinda my muse, Bones. I hope that’s okay.”

Bones blushed even more in response, not sure of how to respond. “I mean...it’s fine,” he finally said, mumbling like he had a minute ago. If Jim hadn’t already been in love, he’d be for sure after this exchange, and he reached up, pushing on Bones’ shoulders to tip him backwards so that he lay down with Jim straddling his hips. Jim grabbed a Trojan and the lube, opening the foil and rolling the condom down Bones’ still erect cock. 

Bones blunt nails scratched down through the hair on Jim’s thighs, and Jim coated his fingers with the lubricant, reaching back and sliding a finger into himself to prep for sex. He sighed, crooking his finger up inside, making a small noise when it hit a certain spot. One finger became two, then three, then Jim was sweating hard, huffing out needy little moans as his fingers pressed into his prostate. 

Below him, Bones had become even redder, sweating himself as he watched Jim work himself open. Making a cry, Jim slid his fingers out, slicking up the condom with the lubricant left all over his hand. He rose up just enough that he slid the tip in, his body flowing down until he sat against Bones’ groin. Jim’s eyes closed, his mouth going slack as he slid his body up and down Bones’ shaft, rotating the angle of his hips so his cock hit his prostate. Bones fingers tightened on Jim’s thighs, hard enough to leave marks, as Jim did all the real work, moving at a slow burn.

Fluid leaked out of the tip of Jim’s cock as he started to speed up --- all the kissing, all the _waiting_ was too much, and he knew he couldn’t last this time. Maybe in the morning, maybe in a week, but not that night.

Bones bit his bottom lip, one hand leaving Jim’s thigh. Spitting in it, Bones reached out and began to jack Jim off, Jim’s head rolling back between his shoulder blades. He cried out, his prostate getting pressed, his cock being stroked, and come shot out of Jim’s cock onto Bones’ chest. His muscles clenched around Bones’ cock, and a second later, Bones sat up abruptly with a shout, his chest heaving like he’d run a marathon.

Jim reached out with his clean hand to brush the hair off Bones’ face. “I’m torn sometimes,” Jim said as he ran his fingers through it. “I love your hair, but I also love seeing your face clearly.”

“It’s not getting cut,” Bones protested. “Also way to kill the afterglow.”

Laughing, Jim shakily lifted, holding the condom so it didn’t get stuck up his ass. He sat next to Bones, removing the condom and taking it into the bathroom. He put it in the toilet, flushing it, then washed his hands and wet a cloth. He came back into the rest of the apartment, sitting next to Bones and cleaning off his chest. There was a hamper nearby, and Jim put the cloth in it. Then he sat next to Bones on the bed for good, Bones pulling him close. They sat with Jim in Bones’ arms tucked in sideways, and Jim’s cheeks flushed a bit from the intimacy. 

“Do you want to stay tonight?” Bones asked. “Or I can drive you home.”

Jim’s hands encircled Bones’ wrists. He didn’t usually stay --- he felt it suggested a permanence he didn’t want to give previous partners. Staying was not something Jim was usually okay with.

“I’ll stay.”

Bones smiled, and Jim fell in love all over again.

 

_10:30_

Jim had his head resting in Bones’ back as they pulled up to Enterprise Records. Jim actually wasn’t scheduled that day, but his bike was there and Bones was too, and besides, he wanted to work on some art. His apartment didn’t really have the space or the lighting, sad to say, but Enterprise did so he typically worked there. 

There was another painting, similar to the angry one, he’d been stalled on for a while. Unlike inspiring rage, this one’s goal was to inspire the person to lose themselves in pure joy. Thanks to heartsickness, Jim hadn’t been able to hammer it out.

But that morning he thought he finally could.

Gaila was outside the store with a cardboard tray filled with coffee. Bones nodded at her, and she hesitantly smiled back. Then she noticed Jim with him, and her smile turned even more hesitant. “Hi guys,” she said.

Jim decided to respond to her after Bones did. Bones shrugged, not completely meeting her gaze, and Jim realized it’d be a while before he’d be cool with her. “Hi,” Bones said. 

Jim smiled at her, hoping to make her feel less bad. “Hi Gaila.” He took a coffee, taking a sip. Too much sugar for his liking, which meant that Gaila was the one who doctored them. Oh well, free coffee was free coffee. “Thanks.”

Spock appeared next, bowl hair cut perfectly styled, and hot pink wayfarers on his face. They were the only color Spock ever wore, which made Jim sometimes wonder if his parents were the villains from Rainbow Brite or something.

The four of them entered the store; instead of at ten, they opened at eleven on Sundays, but they were still there until midnight. Pavel, Nyota, and Hikaru would be coming in later, as would Chris to close up.

Janice came up on her Vespa, and took off her helmet. Her wrist had been bandaged again, but this time it had been done by a professional. Jim rubbed it. “Stitches?”

“Yeah,” Jan said with a small smile. 

Gaila was setting up her register already. Spock was counting one too, and Bones grabbed the box of peanut M&Ms. He blindly handed one to Jan, one to Gaila, and one to Spock. Then he stood several feet away.

He didn’t speak, he just opened his hand and held out a red piece of candy.

Gaila frowned. Jan shook her head. Spock made the exact same gesture as Bones, holding out a matching red M&M.

“Aw man,” Jan said. “What pretentious progrock are you gonna force on us?”

Spock shrugged one shoulder as he went through the racks to make his selection. He selected a CD with a giant layer cake on a turntable, Jim vaguely recognizing it but not at the same time. 

Bones raised an eyebrow. “The Stones?”

Oh right.

Spock put the cd in the player, selecting a specific track. A choir began to sing about how a person can’t always get what they want, but if they try sometimes, they might get what they need. Gaila began to sing along with it. Her voice was actually really good, and Jim wondered why she didn’t sing in a band like Pavel did. 

Jim looked at Bones for a minute before clearing the floor and heading out back to paint. Unlike the reds, some dark purples, grays, and blacks, this painting was pale blues, yellows, and lavender. It would hopefully come out as the best sunrise a person had ever seen, and as Jim went to work, he thought he might actually succeed in his mission. 

It was true that a person couldn’t always get what they wanted. But sometimes what they wanted and what they needed was the same, and in the last twenty four hours, the crew at Enterprise Records had managed to win the day.

On his break, Bones came out to sit while Jim worked. Though Jim didn’t really talk much, Bones didn’t either. He sat eating his sushi take out with another cup of coffee, and they just enjoyed each other’s presence. When it ended, Bones paused to rub his hand on the back of Jim’s neck, kissing him on the temple, then heading back to his job. He was off at seven, and Jim decided to ask Bones to come back to his place so he could cook for him.

The painting was done minus some minor finishing touches, and Jim stood back and admired it. It was perfect.

The door opened and Nyota came out. She stood next to him, giving it the once over. 

Then she smiled.

“This is gorgeous,” Nyota said. 

“Thanks,” Jim said as he looked at her. He picked it up carefully, carting it inside so it could dry. She followed and watched him lay it flat on his Arts and Crafts table. Jim went into the bathroom to wash his hands, Nyota hovering in the doorway like she had the day before. 

“I’m glad,” she said after a while, but Jim didn’t have to ask her for clarification. He thought he knew what she meant.

“The store won’t suck,” Jim said as he watched the water turn greenish.

“That’s good too,” Nyota said. “But I’ve been rooting for you two for a while. I’m glad it’s how it should be.”

Drying his hands, Jim couldn’t stop the smile. “Me too.” They stepped back into the office, Jim stripping out of his smock back into his regular shirt. It was about time for him and Bones to head out. 

Bones came in with a cash drawer in his arms, wandering into the room to count it down. Jim followed. “Hey wanna come to my place? I’ll make dinner.”

Bones nodded, not answering as he made his deposit. When he had completed his task, he dropped the extra cash into the slot in the safe. He locked up his drawer before coming up to Jim. “Whatcha thinking of cooking?”

“Spaghetti and meatballs,” Jim said. “Not super sophisticated, but it’s a classic.”

Bones smiled. “Only if there’s garlic bread.”

“But of course,” Jim replied in a fake French accent.

Bones leaned over, kissing him soundly in the cash office. Then he pulled away with an actual grin. Jim’s heart pitter-pattered at the sight. “Give me two hours. I’ll be over at nine.”

“Perfect, because I need to run to the store,” Jim replied.

Bones waved, saying his goodbyes to the rest of the crew as he grabbed his scooter helmet and took off. Jim performed the same rituals, following behind on his bike.

He had somehow gotten both what he wanted and what he needed, he thought as he rode through the hills of the City. But he was grateful, and he was happy.

That was everything.


End file.
